In Night City, there were two things that held no real value—a conscience and purity.
The year was 2077, and capitalism had long since devoured morality. Corporations didn't just influence nations—they were nations. Replace "state" with "company" and the sentence still made perfect sense.
Night City had eclipsed the world itself.
People cursed it, hated it, called it the cesspit of humanity—and yet they all dreamed of standing beneath its neon glow at least once in their lives.
The city's ruling hands weren't the NCPD or any city hall. They were Arasaka Corporation, Militech, Night Corp—names that could bend governments with a signature.
Every heartbeat, every byte of data, every ounce of flesh—all owned, tagged, catalogued.
In this world, pride could be bought, dignity could be leased, and even a soul had a market price.
Or as Rebecca liked to put it, with that manic grin of hers:
"Life's already dogshit. Might as well do whatever makes you feel good."
…
The trio climbed into Jackie's car. Neo took the driver's seat, Rebecca in the passenger seat, Lucy in the back.
He started the engine—then didn't move.
Rebecca glanced sideways. "Well? You planning to just sit here and look cool, or are we going somewhere?"
Neo gave a helpless little shrug. "Actually… I'm kind of bad with directions. I can drive, but reaching the right destination? That's another story."
For a moment, silence.
Then—
"Pfft."
Lucy couldn't help but laugh softly from the back seat, her lips curving as her voice melted into the hum of the car.
Rebecca blinked. "Wait, wait—you're serious?"
"Very."
She groaned, throwing her head back. "Great. A road-blind samurai. Move over, hero. I'm driving."
Neo raised his hands in mock surrender and traded seats.
Rebecca cracked her knuckles, slid behind the wheel, and started the engine like she was starting a fight. "Since I'm driving, I decide where we're going. Deal?"
"Deal," Neo said.
Lucy leaned back, her expression unreadable but her eyes glowing faintly. "I don't mind," she murmured. "Anywhere's fine… as long as you're there."
That made Rebecca roll her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn't pop out. "Ugh, listen to you, Lucy. When did you start explaining yourself to people?"
Lucy smirked. "I don't. I just don't bother with people who don't matter. But Neo and I—" she paused, gaze lingering on him— "we've already had… a rather close encounter."
Rebecca snorted. "What, you two did it or something?"
Neo coughed, caught off guard. "That's not—"
Lucy smiled faintly, teasing. "Let's just say… we got a little physical. I had to grab him, after all."
Neo's composure wavered for the first time.
Lucy leaned forward slightly, voice dropping to a whisper. "If I hadn't been busy that day, I'd have invited you to my place. We could've watched some Braindances together."
Rebecca grinned. "Well, frag me sideways. You do flirt."
Neo, eager to shift topics, turned toward the driver's seat. "So, we're headed to a shooting range?"
Rebecca's eyes widened. "How'd you know?"
"You're a gunsmith," Neo said simply. "Maintenance is your baseline. But mastering your weapon—that's real craftsmanship. And in Night City, knowing how to shoot is a hell of a lot more useful than knowing how to run."
Rebecca froze, then burst out laughing. "Ha! 'Knowing how to shoot is more useful than knowing how to run.' Choom, that's poetry! I like you already."
She grinned, holding up her palm. Neo reached over and gave her a solid high-five.
Lucy, not to be left out, leaned forward from the back seat, resting her arms between them. "I like that line too."
Neo chuckled and returned the gesture, palm meeting hers.
…
They drove for a while before Rebecca swung the car into an alley lit by flickering red signage.
Below ground. An old, half-forgotten shooting range — her second home.
The smell of oil, gunpowder, and recycled air hit them the moment the doors slid open.
The range wasn't glamorous, but it was alive—every wall pockmarked with bullet holes, every booth housing someone practicing their next payday.
A man behind the counter looked up, his voice booming. "Yo, if it ain't Rebecca! Haven't seen you in ages. What's up? Brought friends today?"
Rebecca snorted. "Friends? You really are blind, old man. You don't recognize Lucy? Without her, your fancy mod chips wouldn't even run."
She jerked a thumb toward Neo. "He's the new one."
Neo stepped forward, offering a brief nod. "V."
The owner blinked, then broke into a grin. "V, huh? That's a name I've been hearing around lately. Heard you made some noise out there."
Neo didn't reply, but there was a quiet confidence in the way he met the man's gaze — a calm that didn't need words.
Rebecca clapped her hands together. "Alright, less talk, more bang. Let's see what the legend can do on the range."
Lucy leaned against a nearby wall, eyes glinting with interest. "This, I've got to see."
Rebecca's grin turned feral. "Careful what you wish for, ice queen. You might just fall for him again."
Lucy didn't answer. She just smiled faintly, her eyes never leaving Neo.
He sighed softly, reaching for the nearest handgun. The weight felt natural in his hand, like an extension of his soul.
He didn't need chrome. Didn't need upgrades. Only focus, and intent.
He took aim.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Three shots. Three perfect head hits.
Rebecca whistled. "Holy shit, Neo. You're not just good — you're smooth."
Neo holstered the gun. "Told you. Knowing how to shoot's better than knowing how to run."
Lucy's lips curved again, her voice just a whisper. "And knowing when not to shoot… that's what makes you dangerous."
The neon lights hummed above them, casting all three in shades of crimson and cyan.
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